


Teenage Love Songs

by PotionsMistressM



Category: Christine - Stephen King, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen, Teen Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionsMistressM/pseuds/PotionsMistressM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost 40 years after Arnie Cunningham's death, Christine shows up in Storybrooke.  OUAT/<i>Christine</i> crossover/retelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teenage Love Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Henry's 16 or 17. This may just be the beginning of a longer fic. I haven't decided yet.

Emma sighed as the silence in the car stretched on. Henry had been a big old bundle of bad mood ever since she'd picked him up, and there didn't seem to be an end to it in sight. _Teenagers_ , she thought. _So much fun._

"What's the matter, kid?" she asked when she couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Are those Hubbard kids giving you trouble again? Did they take your lunch again?"

"Mom, stop."

"Henry, I- "

"Mom, stop! Go back! Go back!" Somehow woken from his stupor, Henry was looking out the passenger window, craning his head so far backward he looked like the girl in _The Exorcist_ , and although he'd been little more than a lump just a minute ago, he was now sitting up straight, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation.

Emma narrowed her eyes- she hadn't seen anything at all worth stopping for- but the road was empty of all other traffic, so she stopped and reversed, half of her attention on the rear view mirror and half of it on her son and whatever it could be that he was so intent on seeing again.

At Henry's sharp inhalation of breath, she instinctively hit the brakes, and the kid was out the door before the car had even completely stopped.

"Hey!" Emma shouted, frustrated, as she put the little Bug in park and followed her son.

The lot was deserted except for a little wooden shack that would have been more at home in a horror movie, and an extremely old, extremely busted car with a "For Sale" sign in the back window. Henry danced around the car like a kid on Christmas, bouncing from one side to the next, looking at every piece of rusted trim and lovingly caressing every dented curve.

"Isn't she beautiful?" he asked, his eyes alight in a way Emma hadn't seen since he'd hit puberty, when being good and gallant and happy had suddenly become very, very uncool. Her heart broke just a little bit. Why hadn't he seen this rust bucket when he'd been in the car with Regina? She was used to being the bad guy. Emma hated it when she had to be the grown up and talk Henry down from one of his fantasies.

"Kid, this car is a piece of shit," she said, though she might have been speaking Swahili for all the attention Henry paid her.

"She must be sixty years old! That officially makes her an antique!" Emma bit back her first response- that he spent all day dealing with antiques at his grandfather's shop, so why would he want to bring one home?- and instead tried to get through to him in a language she knew he understood well- sarcasm.

"The junkyard behind Tillman's garage is full of antiques. You've never thought any of those were beautiful."

"Tillman's! I could take her there. He'd let me have some space to fix her up..."

"Henry, how do you even expect to get this car off this lot, let alone to the garage?" Emma asked, distractedly kicking the license plate that hung off the front fender, only one screw still attached. _Pennsylvania plates._ Emma narrowed her eyes. How did a car from Pennsylvania get to a town in Maine that had a pretty strict "No Visitors" policy? "I bet it won't even start."

Perhaps it was the dull thudding of rusting metal again rusting metal as the license plate reverberated against the fender, or maybe she had simply been too caught up in her pondering of how the car had arrived in Storybrooke, but either way, Emma didn't see the old man exit the shack and make his way towards them and was unprepared for the scratchy, crochety-old-man voice that sounded behind her.

"Oh, she'll start," the man said, completely ignoring Emma and extending his arm out toward Henry. "Need these, though."

As the keys settled into Henry's cupped hand, his eyes widened and a grin broke out on his face, and for some reason she couldn't name, Emma was suddenly very, very frightened.


End file.
